


Jamba Juice

by Rubick



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, For reasons, Getting Together, I know the summary makes it seem like snowballing happens in this fic, M/M, Make the magical penises kiss, Okay a spoiler in the next tag, Oral Sex, POV Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater's Canonical Oral Fixation, Quentin and Eliot's Canonically Poor Communication Skills, but it doesn't, mainly that QCCOF that is further up in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubick/pseuds/Rubick
Summary: “We need your spunk,” Margo says bluntly. “Both of yours. Specifically, in your mouth, and then passed into these sacred vessels.” She holds up two small tupperware containers.Eliot stares at her for a moment, and then he risks a glance at Quentin, who is also staring at Margo. As if he feels Eliot’s eyes on him, Quentin turns to him, and holds his gaze for a moment. Then they both turn back to Margo.“So I would need to blow Eliot and then, um, spit it into that?” Quentin says, his voice small.“The semen would need to be touched by the owner’s, uh, lips,” Julia pipes up. “So, um—”“One of us has to snowball the other. That’s kind of something you work up to, Margo,” Eliot says, feeling more amused than anything else right now. As if Quentin would ever agree to this.“I can do it,” Quentin says suddenly, causing all heads to turn in his direction. “Or, I guess we can do it. If you’re okay with that,” he says to Eliot, meeting his eyes.Inspired by the prompt: “Make the magical penises kiss”
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater & Julia Wicker, Quentin Coldwater & Margo Hanson, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 42
Kudos: 165





	Jamba Juice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shockvaluecola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shockvaluecola/gifts).



> I set out to write some kind of weird kink snowballing fic, and this is… not that. I guess I’m just a soft, sensitive bitch. Sorry, sharkvaluecola! I tried. Hopefully you enjoy this anyway. :D
> 
> This takes place in some kind of nebulous AU where the threesome/Beast happened but not the mosaic and there is no current crisis, everyone is happy and just living their lives.
> 
> Many thanks to [stormcoming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormcoming/pseuds/stormcoming) and [LeakingLlama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeakingLlama/pseuds/LeakingLlama) for their beta work.

“There is no way that’s what it says.” Penny picks up the parchment, holding it close to his face, like that will make the fucking words change. “I mean, I’ve seen some fucked up magic, but this…”

“It wouldn’t be the most unorthodox thing we’ve ever seen,” Julia points out. “Remember when we had to simultaneously time four orgasms to gather enough power to fuel the spell to fight the griffins?”

“Yep,” Margo says, popping the ‘p’ and exchanging a smile with Julia. “Too bad that’s not the case again; I don’t think it would take us three tries to hit it this time.”

“It wouldn’t have taken that many times if someone didn’t keep—” Kady is interrupted by Eliot taking the paper out of Penny’s hand.

“Let’s focus on the problem at hand, shall we?” Eliot pauses as Quentin leans over to look at the spell, holding it at a better angle for him to see. This close, Eliot can get a whiff of his shampoo, some fruity thing that shouldn’t make his hair look half as nice as it does. Eliot clears his throat and continues, “So, if we’re reading this right—”

“We are,” Margo cuts in, glancing at Julia, who nods in agreement.

“In order to generate enough power to solidify the bridge to carry electronic signals between Fillory and Earth, we have to, quote, ‘make the cockerels kiss,’ end quote.” He raises an eyebrow as he hands the paper over to Quentin. “Well that’s kinky, even for me.”

“Maybe it’s a bird?” Quentin says, reading over the text. “Like a Fillorian species?”

“No,” Margo says firmly. “It’s your cocks. It’s an old-ass spell, with old-ass slang for your trouser snakes.”

Quentin glances up at Eliot, and then quickly looks back at the spell, his cheeks pink. “How does that even work?”

 _I can think of a few different ways_ , Eliot thinks as he looks down at Quentin in amusement. Then he glances up and meets Penny’s eyes over the table as Margo smirks at all of them.

“I’m out,” Penny says, turning and walking out of the throne room. Kady rolls her eyes, but follows him.

“Looks like I’m no help for this one, so… good luck,” she says with a smile.

“Well,” Josh says, looking around. It was himself, Margo, Eliot, Quentin, and Julia left in the room. “I am more than happy to take one for the team and do what’s best for Fillory.”

Eliot’s gaze moves quickly to Josh, as does Quentin’s. Then Eliot can’t help but look to Quentin, who meets his eyes, again turning away almost instantly, a blush coloring his cheeks. _Interesting_ , Eliot thinks. Then he quickly pushes the thought away. 

He frowns, glancing at Margo. She’s been working on this spell for months, and magic being magic, of course there was some crazy-ass sex thing they have to do to make it work. Which, Eliot is usually more than happy to do. But there’s no imminent catastrophe, no world-ending God they have to suck off in order to appease, so what’s the big rush?

“Bambi, I know this would be more convenient than bunnies—”

“Look, it’s more than a _convenience_ ,” she says, sauntering around the table, trailing one hand down its surface. “With how much back and forth we do, we need to be able to get in touch with each other faster than jumping a portal or a clock or sending five bunnies for one goddamn sentence. Twenty, if you’re Quentin.” Quentin frowns at the implication, and then shrugs. “This spell can make that happen for us. I just need you two to buck up, so to speak, and take care of things. Right now. The moon is in the proper phase or what the fuck ever. Chop chop.” She’s looking firmly at Quentin and Eliot, a very familiar grin playing on her lips.

Eliot risks another glance at Quentin, and yep, he’s bright red now, looking from the spell to Margo to Eliot to Josh to Julia and then making the whole circuit over again. Eliot opens his mouth, but Margo just keeps on going.

“So we think the translation is pretty literal. Like, you can’t just press your dicks together and call it a day. There needs to be an exchange. Of fluids. Like a real kiss.” Margo crosses her arms, moving to stand next to Julia. “Just with your meat sticks.”

“Okay,” Eliot says. “This is—how—” Eliot searches for words, glancing over at Quentin, who’s reading over the spell again, frowning. _Come on Bambi, take a hint._ “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“So, um,” Julia jumps in, clearing her throat, “We all know that, uh, semen holds a lot of power in Fillorian lore, and—”

“So can’t I just, I don’t know, give you a sample and we can use that in the spell?” Eliot asks.

“No, you can’t jerk off into a plastic cup and pass it over the counter, Eliot,” Margo says. “I know it’s been a while, hon, but a kiss involves at least two people and lips and all kinds of fun stuff. We gotta play this straight to get the goods. And that means your lips _and_ your jizz, and probably your tongue too, just to play it safe.”

Eliot takes a step back, keeping Quentin out of his line of sight. “So—what _exactly_ do you need? Like, spell it out for me, like I’m a five-year-old.” He pauses, “Well, more like I’m an of-age but sexually inexperienced consenting adult.”

“We need your spunk,” Margo says bluntly. “Both of yours. Specifically, in your mouth, and then passed into these sacred vessels.” She holds up two small tupperware containers.

Eliot stares at them for a moment, and then he risks a glance at Quentin, who is also staring at the ‘sacred vessels.’ As if he feels Eliot’s eyes on him, Quentin turns to him, and holds his gaze for a moment. Then they both turn back to Margo.

“So I would need to blow Eliot and then, um, spit it into that?” Quentin says, his voice small.

“The semen would need to be touched by the owner’s, uh, lips, mouth,” Julia pipes up . “So, um—”

“One of us has to snowball the other. That’s kind of something you work up to, Margo,” Eliot says, feeling more amused than anything else right now. As if Quentin would ever agree to this.

“I can do it,” Quentin says suddenly, causing all heads to turn in his direction. “Or, I guess _we_ can do it. If you’re okay with that,” he says to Eliot, meeting his eyes. Eliot’s mouth drops open as he looks at Quentin, unable to stop from focusing on his mouth. A mouth he’s had many fantasies about, imagining those lips wrapped around his cock, sucking and licking until Eliot comes down Quentin's throat. A fantasy he never thought would ever actually _come_ to fruition. 

Quentin’s face is angled down towards the table, but his eyes are trained on Eliot. Without even realizing it, Eliot is nodding in agreement.

“Fantastic,” Margo says. “And we need jamba juice from _both_ of you. One sacred vessel for each.” She slides the containers over the table towards Quentin, who reaches over and picks them up. “We’ll leave you boys to it.”

Eliot watches them leave, his eyes almost comically wide. He turns to Quentin, who’s turning the tupperware over in his hands. “Q,” he says softly. “You don’t—we don’t—this is—” The corners of Quentin’s mouth are slowly tilting up as Eliot flails and grasps and words, failing over and over. “I mean, this is crazy. Right?” He looks to Quentin for confirmation, and he just shrugs.

“Alice and I had to come at the same time to get Penny back to our world. Margo just talked about the orgy spell a few months ago, which I apparently missed,” he says, almost wistfully. “And don’t even remind me about the sphincter magic… how is this any different?” Then he frowns, looking away. “Unless you don’t want to do that. With me. Which I get, of course I understand, I mean I—”

“No, Q,” Eliot interrupts, stepping closer. “It’s not that. I would do any—” he clears his throat, “I want to. I just never thought _you_ wanted to.” He focuses on Quentin’s hands, one of his favorite things to look at, as he’s suddenly unable to actually look Quentin in the eye.

“You never thought I’d want to suck your dick?” Quentin asks bluntly. “I thought you assumed everyone wanted that.” Eliot lets out a shocked laugh, and he looks up to see Quentin smiling at him. It puts Eliot instantly at ease, tension flowing out of his body.

“I mean, I’m not gonna say I haven’t thought about it—”

“About how everyone wants to suck your dick?” God, the way Quentin says it as he takes a step closer has Eliot wondering if the temperature in the room has shot up a few degrees. He’s staring up at Eliot now, bold and present in a way Eliot’s never seen from him before. It’s hypnotizing, the heat simmering in his eyes.

Eliot can’t help but sway a little closer to Quentin, until they’re just a foot away. He chuckles and says, “I meant you. And me. I’ve thought about you—” He breaks off, looking around the room, which is blessedly empty except for the two of them. And their sacred vessels.

“Yeah?” Quentin whispers, stepping closer still. “What have you thought about?”

 _Is this really happening?_ Quentin is inches away now, all Eliot would have to do is duck his head and press his lips against Quentin’s, pull that tight, compact body against his own… he doesn’t realize his hand has reached out to settle on Quentin’s hip until it’s there, tugging him closer until there’s just a breath between their bodies. Eliot looks into Quentin’s eyes, finds them darker than he’s ever seen, wide and open, ready to hear whatever Eliot has to say. And fuck, if this is Eliot’s shot, he’s going to fucking shoot it.

“You,” Eliot whispers. “Your mouth.” He looks at the mouth in question, that sultry little pout. Images of Quentin licking whatever off every fucking finger suddenly pops into Eliot’s brain, and he exhales a shaky breath against Quentin’s nose. “On my cock. Sucking me until I come in your mouth.” He can feel a tremor go through Quentin’s body, one of Quentin’s hands on his chest, fingers hooking into the edge of Eliot’s vest, the other resting on Eliot’s lower back. “I’ve thought about fucking you,” he continues, smiling at Quentin’s sharp intake of breath. “About what you’d sound like on my dick. What you taste like inside.” He hovers his lips over Quentin’s now, his cock half-hard against his thigh and Christ, what was the spell thing they were supposed to be worried about?

“That’s a—That’s a lot of thoughts,” Quentin says, pressing his hips firmly against Eliot’s. God, Eliot can feel his hard cock through his jeans, and Eliot slides one hand down to palm Quentin’s ass, pulling him tighter. “I think about you, too,” Quentin says, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips and _god_ Eliot could almost feel it sliding into his own mouth. “A lot,” Quentin adds, just before Eliot closes the distance and presses his mouth against Quentin’s.

It’s sweet and instantly deep, Quentin wasting no time opening to Eliot, allowing Eliot’s tongue to sweep inside. He’s so eager, hands clenching at Eliot’s shirt, pushing up on his toes to get as close as he can. A small groan comes from Eliot’s throat as they part, and Eliot leans his forehead against Quentin’s. 

“Should we go—”

“Yes,” Quentin cuts him off, grabbing Eliot’s hand and pulling him out of the room. Once they’re in the hallway, he turns back to Eliot. “In case it wasn’t clear,” he says breathlessly, pinning Eliot down with the hungry look in his eyes, “I want to.” Then he turns and continues down the hall.

Eliot trails behind him, still holding Quentin’s hand. “It’s clear,” he says back, laughing at the smile Quentin tosses over his shoulder.

Quentin leads them to Eliot’s bedroom; Eliot wasn’t sure Quentin knew the way, but apparently he’s full of surprises today. Eliot pulls the door shut behind him and turns to Quentin, surprised-but-not to see him passing the ‘sacred vessels’ between his hands, his expression reflecting more his natural, nervous state that Eliot is used to.

Eliot smiles at him, stepping forward and taking the containers out of his hands. He sets them down next to the bed, and then pulls Quentin closer so they’re standing as they were earlier, just inches away from each other. Eliot trails his hands up Quentin’s arms, shoulders, up the warm skin of his neck before resting on his cheeks. Eliot bends down and kisses him slowly, enjoying how Quentin melts into him, the soft little noises Quentin can’t seem to stop from spilling out of him.

“So tell me,” Eliot says, kissing Quentin’s nose, his eyelids, while one hand journeys down Quentin’s waist to slip under the back of his shirt and rest against his hot skin, “what you’ve thought about.” He nips along Quentin’s earlobe, smiling as Quentin’s fingers dig into Eliot’s hips.

“Your hands,” Quentin sighs almost immediately, and Eliot splays his fingers wide across Quentin’s back, flexing slightly. Quentin presses an open-mouthed kiss into Eliot’s neck, and Eliot’s other hand moves down Quentin’s chest to rest lightly over his belt buckle. He lets the tips of his fingers play against Quentin’s belly, just under the hem of his shirt.

“You can have my hands if you want,” Eliot whispers, dipping his tongue into Quentin’s ear. “But you have to finish in my mouth. It’s required.” Quentin moans, turning his head and capturing Eliot’s lips, his hands coming up to sink into Eliot’s curls.

“I’ve thought about blowing you,” Quentin says. “Like, a _lot_. I know I’ve already done it but I hardly remember it.” Eliot’s body jolts as memories of that long-ago threesome pop up in his head, a stilted home movie full of fuzzy images and distorted sound. His cock is fully hard now, straining against his pants as Quentin presses his hips against Eliot’s.

“I wanna feel you fall apart in my mouth,” Quentin says. He pushes Eliot back against the bed until Eliot hits the edge, sitting down. Now he’s staring up at Quentin, leaning back on his elbows and moving up the mattress as Quentin climbs over him. Eliot’s never seen him so sexy, his forearms flexing as they hold his weight, his eyes lingering over Eliot’s body. The way he’s looking at Eliot, like he wants to eat him, is sending currents of desire surging throughout Eliot's limbs. It’s been a long time, he thinks, since anyone’s looked at him that way.

“I’ve jerked off so many times thinking about your dick inside me,” Quentin continues, like he’s unable to stop himself now that Eliot’s gotten him started. Eliot inhales sharply, his muscles tightening, dick hardening, heart beating with every word out of Quentin’s mouth. “Wanna see if I can take it. Fuck me hard until I come. Pull my hair and scratch my nails down your back.” Quentin reaches up and starts unbuttoning Eliot’s shirt. “I know we can’t do that tonight…” he falters as he finishes the last button, pushing open Eliot’s shirt and trailing his hand up Eliot’s stomach, to rest on his chest. 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Eliot says, pushing Quentin’s shirt up his torso. “One I’m very much up for.” Quentin smiles and pulls it over his head, tossing it into the bedroom somewhere behind him. Eliot’s eyes move to the newly exposed skin, taking in Quentin’s broad shoulders, his furry chest and small, puckered nipples. He pushes up and presses his lips to Quentin’s chest, placing wet kisses on his sternum, up to his collarbone. Quentin’s hands are back in Eliot’s curls, gently threading through his hair as he ducks down and kisses Eliot, thrusting his tongue into his mouth as he grinds down with his hips.

 _Fuck_ it’s good, the pressure of Quentin’s hard cock against Eliot’s, and he thinks he could come from just this. But they have a specific job to do, and while it is nice to know exactly what they’re going to be doing in the next few minutes, Eliot is already thinking about what else they can do after they ‘fill the sacred vessels.’ Or make a contribution, whatever.

“You wanna go first?” Eliot asks, shrugging his shirt all the way off. “Get me off now and I can fuck you later?”

Quentin makes a gargled noise that Eliot assumes is a yes, for how eagerly he kisses Eliot while his hands fumble with Eliot’s belt. Eliot grins and lets him open his pants, and helps shove them down his thighs and onto the floor. He watches Quentin’s face as he looks at Eliot’s dick, hard against his stomach, how Quentin’s eyes widen slightly and his breath hitches. Quentin settles down between Eliot’s legs, a hand on his thigh as he noses at the head.

“You’re bigger than I remember,” Quentin says, and the gleam in his eye has Eliot’s mind whirling.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Eliot asks, unable to stop himself. Quentin pushes open Eliot’s thighs, stretching his muscles, and Eliot sighs softly as Quentin presses his tongue against the underside of his cock, swipes in the slit.

Quentin glances up at him, then slides his lips right over Eliot’s cock, taking him in and sucking hard. Eliot forgets his question, wrapped up in the soft heat of Quentin’s mouth, until Quentin pops off, stroking Eliot with his hand while he answers softly, “Years.” Then he drops down and licks Eliot’s balls while still working him with his hand.

Eliot’s eyes roll back in his head as Quentin’s firm grip and soft tongue send waves of bliss throughout his entire body. Quentin steadies his hand at the base of Eliot’s cock and goes back to blowing him, his hand covering what his mouth can’t. Whatever may have happened in that liquor-soaked threesome all those years ago, those memories do not compare to what is happening right here, right now. Quentin seems to know just how Eliot likes it, when to speed up or slow down, exactly what he needs to fuel the pressure slowly building in his belly.

 _Years_. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Eliot pants, eyes closed as he tugs sharply at Quentin’s hair, his answering moan vibrating through Eliot’s entire body. “You broke up with Alice—” Eliot nearly whines when Quentin pulls off his dick, and he looks down to see Quentin frowning at him.

“You were with Idri,” Quentin reminds him. “And it’s not like you were ever interested in me?” Eliot frowns at his words, and opens his mouth to reply when Quentin noses at his dick again. “We really should have this conversation _after_ you come in my mouth, okay?”

Eliot hardly has time to nod, gesture, even blink before Quentin is taking him back in, arching his body so he can take Eliot’s cock further down his throat. It’s fucking divine, how Quentin is so eager and _into_ this, grinding his own hips down against the mattress like having Eliot’s dick in his mouth is doing more for him than it is for Eliot.

It’s true that Eliot was with Idri when Quentin broke up with Alice, but not for very long—that fierce fling had fizzled out after only a few months. And that—that was at least a year ago. Eliot could have had this mouth on his cock nearly nightly for a fucking _year_ and he had no idea? He’d always been _interested_ in Quentin, but god, anytime he so much as flirted Quentin would blush or leave the room. And they were friends, _real_ friends, something Eliot has never had many of. He didn’t want to fuck that up.

But fuck, Eliot is _definitely_ willing to take that risk now. And he’s going to let Quentin know it. 

“God, Q,” he says as Quentin works to take him in deeper, flattening his tongue on the underside of Eliot’s dick. “I had no idea—you were interested—fuck, I’ve always wanted you. Christ, yes, just like that—your mouth is so good, baby. If I’d known you wanted this, me, _anything_ , I wouldn’t have lasted a day before getting my mouth on your dick, or my cock in your beautiful ass.” He’s panting, his body tightening and surging like a live wire as his cock bumps the back of Quentin’s throat, his hand still securely tangled in Quentin’s long hair. One of Quentin’s hands is clutching tightly at Eliot’s thigh, and the other is bracing himself on the bed. As he talks, Quentin moans, and he gets on his knees so one hand can move down to his belt. As Eliot watches, Quentin pulls his own hard cock out of his pants.

“Goddamn that’s so fucking hot. Touch yourself, yes. You have any idea how sexy you are?” Eliot pulls harder at Quentin’s hair, and he can see Quentin’s hand moving faster over his dick. The sound of him jerking himself off combined with the obscene sounds he’s making while sucking Eliot’s dick is going to be the instrumental score that plays in Eliot’s head every time he masturbates. 

“Every time you cast I can’t look at you because I get so fucking distracted watching your hands and fingers. I should’ve known how good you’d be at sucking cock, from how much you seem to enjoy putting your fingers in your mouth. _Fuck_.” Quentin spreads his knees wider, and Eliot can really _see_ now, Quentin fisting his fat cock while he bobs up and down on Eliot’s dick.

“You’re gonna make me come, baby. Yeah, just like that. You gonna come with me? Come on, show me how much you want this.” He presses his head back into the mattress and sinks both hands into Quentin’s hair, bucking up into Quentin’s mouth. It’s _right there_ , he can feel it in his fucking _toes_ , the string about to snap, a wave about to violently break on the shore. “I’m gonna come,” he warns. Quentin pulls him in as deep as he can, and Eliot’s orgasm hits him. Grunting and gasping, he pushes up into the wet heat of Quentin’s mouth, coming down his throat, his fingers tightening in Quentin’s hair, his thighs clenching and back arching. It’s intense and fierce, sending streaks of heat throughout his body.

“Fuck,” he says, light-headed as Quentin’s head lolls against his thigh. He looks down to see Quentin gazing up at him, looking as dazed as Eliot feels.

Quentin swallows thickly and asks, “Did you mean that?”

Eliot tries to rewind the past few minutes, finds that he keeps getting stuck on the earth-tilting orgasm, and asks, “Mean what?”

Quentin’s eyes dart away and then back to Eliot, and he says, “That you always wanted me?”

Eliot looks down at him for a second, and then gestures for Quentin to come closer. “Come up here.”

Quentin does, shucking his pants all the way off as he does, and Eliot can see that his stomach is streaked with come. Eliot smiles, casting a cleaning tut as Quentin settles in next to him. Eliot turns on his side, grabbing Quentin’s hand and threading their fingers together.

“I meant it,” Eliot says, shocked at just how much he fucking meant it. “I—I had no idea _you_ wanted it. When I’d flirt, you never really... _responded_. I figured you wanted to just stay friends. Which would have been fine. I want you in my life any way I can get you, Q.”

Quentin gives Eliot that dopey smile that makes Eliot feel like glitter is exploding inside his belly, and he leans into Eliot, giving him a chaste kiss. Then he pulls away, chuckling. 

“I thought you were just, I dunno, being your flirty self. Like you always are.” He looks to Eliot, then up at the ceiling. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you. But I thought friends was the best I could get.”

“Wow,” Eliot says. “Well, thank God for weird Fillorian sex spells,” he laughs.

Quentin quickly turns to him, his eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” he says. “I forgot. I swallowed.” Then he looks down at his own soft cock. “And I also got myself off… not in your mouth.” He frowns. “I was really looking forward to that.”

Eliot smiles at him. “Night’s still young, baby. And I do believe there is a challenge on the table.” Then he kisses Quentin, rolling over and on top of him.

~~~

Julia and Margo sit together on the chaise lounge in front of the fire in Margo’s bedroom, wine glasses in hand. There’s a soft knock at the door, and Penny and Kady walk in.

“So they do it yet?” Penny asks, settling in next to Julia. Kady plops down on the other side of her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Julia smiles at them. “No reports yet; Eliot has silencing wards on his room, so we can’t hear anything. Margo wanted to spy on them but I said no.”

“Spoilsport,” Margo says, with no heat to it. She hands Kady and Penny glasses of wine and settles into an overstuffed chair, drawing her legs up under her. 

Kady takes a sip and asks, “So what’s your plan for when they bust in here with their jizz, all ready to cast the spell?”

Margo snorts. “Trust me, there’s no way they’ll be in here before morning. Tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, if I know El.” Then she frowns. “Although knowing them, they’ll probably blow each other and then somehow still convince themselves they’re better off as friends.”

Then she shrugs. “Meh. We’ll just tell them it wasn’t a good batch and they have to try again and eat it out of each other's assholes or something.”

“Margo!” Julia says, her eyes wide even as she smirks and takes another gulp of her wine, nestling into Penny’s side, even as Penny makes a noise of disgust at Margo’s comment.

Margo rolls her eyes. “Look, I am not spending another minute with those two mooning over each other. We did what we had to do for the good of Fillory. We’ll just tell them we figured out another way for the spell to work.”

Kady rolls her eyes. “Eliot will figure it out. Especially since we already cast it a week ago.”

Margo nods. “And he’ll thank me for it.” She shrugs again. “Eventually.”

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> I did set out to write this kinky snowballing fic, but Quentin just... forgetting was too appealing to pass up. Maybe I'll write a sequel some day where they actually do the thing and present Margo with their full sacred vessels.
> 
> Please find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rubickk7) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Rubick71).


End file.
